Between Worlds

           I have been rewatching the series “This is Us” which jumps back and forth from childhood to adulthood and intertwines stories of not only the five Pearsons (Jack, Rebecca, Randall, Kate and Kevin) but others whose paths cross with the five main characters – some becoming main characters more than Jack).  The constant flashbacks usually drive me nuts but I have been looking at this series in a different frame of mind.

          I have only one and a half episodes left.  Rebecca now has dementia and the three children are proposing ideas of how to deal with her care.  They don’t have the gospel.  They don’t pray about their decisions.  They have never done role play the way that we had in my family.  We made decisions based on mom’s desires but also prayed about decisions we made.  For many we knew the answers before the question was asked.

          The biggest one came when the doctors had approached us with the decision of cutting off her leg or putting her on dialysis or perhaps it was time to consider hospice care.  Hospice care.  We all agreed before the doctor walked away.  The recent in-law to join the family was taken aback.  How could we possibly make such a life-changing decision without even thinking about it.  Truth is we had thought about it.  Long before Mom got dementia she had told us that she didn’t ever want to go on dialysis.  It was her wish. 

          Having a missing leg would have been devastating as she was not in the frame of mind to understand why it was missing.  It would have to be explained to her several times a day.  She would have been miserable.  Hospice provided a pleasantness which we all witnessed as she would fade in and out with the other side.  We knew she was happy.  But that is how we were raised.  We were raised not only believing in God but confiding in Him and allowing Him to be a part of our decisions. 

          We have our free agency.  He helps us to be free.  He allows us to feel peace. I wish everybody else had the same closeness that we have in my family.  We are not perfect but our upbringing has certainly made a tremendous different that I don’t see very often.  I wish we were part of the majority.  I wish everyone had that.

Downsizing

           Richard felt excited to make some toy rabbits to add to our planters plus items.  It is almost mid July and I wonder how many will purchase planters to start gardens that theoretically should have been started months ago.  But I am by no means a gardener.  What do I know?

          We do a farmers market on Wednesday and one on Saturday.  We usually get more business on Wednesday.  Take yesterday for example.  Richard had wanted to make a whole slew of bunnies. We have never introduced them and I told him that we should just stick with the four we had.  We didn’t know that right after we set up there would be two busloads of children, each with five dollars to spend.  We sold three bunnies and three painted stools within the matter of minutes. 

          There was one girl who wanted a robot planter (which I learned later on, works well as a doll chair) but they are 20 dollars.  When we returned home I suggested to Richard that he just make smaller robots out of the scraps of wood.  Why not.  I don’t know if we’ll continue after this month.  They may be more time consuming.  But I think it will be a hit with the children.

Zyrtec over the counter is NOT the same as prescription

 . . . at least it seems that way.  My doctor had called in a prescription in March – I was told to take as needed.  Now I’ve taken Zyrtec before.  Over the counter.  The small white pill is oval shaped.  They have not made me drowsy.  But this small pez shaped ones that the pharmacy doled out . . . omigosh!

          The first couple of times I had taken the small pez shaped cetirizine I felt like I was in a coma for two days.  That is when I decided maybe it would be best if I cut them in half.  It still knocked me out.  I took only as needed.  I’ve cut six of them into thirds – which still wipes me out.  I still have twelve full ones left.  Perhaps I’ll need to cut them in forths.

          I do sleep better.  Much better.  The garbage truck collected the trash.  I don’t know what time.  I was zonked.  Won’t be taking one again for a while.  And it will only be a third of one.  Good night!

Thank You, Paul

           I was on my way to the casino to use the restroom.  Paul was walking his dog.  I could tell it was partly pit and was looking at every human the way Bonnie does.  I stopped to pet the dog and made small talk with Paul and continued on my way.

          I heard a bark and wondered if his dog had encountered another – as we often see many dogs out with their owners.  When I returned to the parking lot I walked toward our canvassed booth and saw Paul walking with his wife.  No dog.  Evidently the dog was being punished for going off like an alarm.

          There was a cool breeze – almost too cool.  I had my sweatshirt on most of the day and had purposely moved my chair into the sun.  I didn’t seem to notice the wind on the outside of the tent but it was evident under the canopy.  As I was about to return to my shaded spot a huge gust knocked over at least one of our pots.

          Paul, who wore an arm cast and sling, bent over to pick up the pieces and I bent down to help him.  After all, I felt an obligation to clean up after the wind had knocked our product.  But Paul insisted that he clean it up and I should sit down.  But I had two hands with which to pick up and to hold.  But then perhaps he felt the need to prove that he was not disabled.

          He hadn’t purchased anything but apparently he had given a tip to replace our loss.  That was dang sweet of him!  Kudos, Paul.  Not just for the tip but for your kindness.  Perhaps it should have been us who had given the bill to you.  Thank you.